


Shot in the Dark

by th3rm0pyl43



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Everybody Lives, F/F, Gen, Horror, Lovecraftian, M/M, Partial Mind Control, Psychological Horror, Reverse Lovecraftian Misanthropy, Survival Horror, Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/th3rm0pyl43/pseuds/th3rm0pyl43
Summary: When the SSD Executor's navcomputers malfunction in the middle of the Battle of Endor and send the Star Dreadnought to a place where nothing is as it seems, the warship's crew has to band together and fight for their survival as the Force itself seems to want them not only dead, but annihilated.





	1. Reality Check

It had all been a blur.

A shout had resounded across the bridge, warning the crew of the dying starfighter hurtling on a sure and unalterable path towards the mighty _Executor'_ s single weak spot. Light had flooded the vast chamber, as if a star had exploded right outside its crystal clear viewports. Then, a fraction of a second later, everything was gone.

Admiral Firmus Piett’s hands trembled as he held on to the nearest communications console as if for dear life. His knees were weak, his heart was pounding madly, and cold sweat was running down his brow.

He was still breathing. _Good_.

Piett cracked his eyes open. He belatedly noticed that a deathly silence had settled on the bridge like a thick blanket, leaving just his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. Now that he could see, he briefly wondered whether he was dreaming or delirious or had already died.

Everything was frozen in place. A red A-wing starfighter seemed to hover right outside the viewports, its nose just about to pierce the transparisteel. The crew had become statues of flesh and blood, their expressions contorted in sudden horror. The machines might as well have shut down completely, screens and lights frozen, the eternal purr of the starship’s engines silenced. Everything was dead.

“What in Boonta’s name…” Piett whispered to himself, hardly believing his eyes.

The admiral gingerly pushed himself upright and took a few steps towards the viewports. Instinct screamed at him to hit the deck, but he continued on his path until the A-wing’s nose was barely an arm’s length away. Eyes wide, he felt dread tying his insides into a knot. He’d had many a brush with death in his career, but none had ever been so close.

Yes, he was alive… but what about the others?

With a shiver running down his spine, Piett turned around and walked back to where he’d stood before, looking around. He spotted Captain Thorba Neradi nearby, bent over a console, eyes fixed on the same spot on the screen as the operator’s were. She had not seen the starfighter nearly crash into the bridge. Piett thought he would rather not be in her place - he preferred to face death, when it came, upright and with as much dignity as a man of his humble origins could muster. Given that he would _notice_ death, of course - in the captain’s case, ignorance was bliss, he supposed.

Looking at Neradi for a little longer, Piett felt what he could only describe as a strange tugging sensation, as if he had a rope looped around his waist and it was being pulled at. Everything was beginning to move again all of a sudden, and the tugging intensified, and the admiral’s stomach lurched as the A-wing came closer again. It appeared to pick up speed, closing in, and when the tip of its nose would have pierced the viewport and sent deadly shrapnel flying everywhere, Piett thought he was being torn out of this world and into a bottomless abyss. His vision went dark, and in the split second before he lost consciousness, he caught a glimpse of something so unfathomable that it was far beyond description - perhaps the stuff of legends older than dirt, something the human mind was not meant to understand.

* * *

 

When the admiral awoke, he did so with a start, still feeling that creeping horror deep in his very bones. He did not know how long he had been out. Had everything just been a dream?

Shaking himself out of his confusion, Piett found himself lying on his stomach on top of something that was large, firm and somewhat round - and _alive_. He froze for a moment before gingerly lifting his head, then closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The thing beneath him was nothing other than his lover’s warm body. One arm was draped over his waist with its familiar weight.

The distress began to ebb away immediately as Piett buried his face in soft black fabric that covered a wide, toned chest, deeply inhaling the scent of steel, freshly laundered synthwool, army-issue shower gel, a hint of sweat and a light whiff of lemongrass. He pressed his cheek to the firm surface and listened to the strong, steady heartbeat below, feeling his own slow gradually to a normal pace again. The soft snoring took away the last of his worries for now. Piett wished he could simply lie here and be close to his lover forever, but the burning desire to know what in the nine hells had happened on the bridge outweighed that for his partner for once.

“Max?” he urged quietly, shifting to sit up and gently touch one slightly stubbly cheek. “Max, please wake up.”

Piett failed to keep his voice from quivering, even though he was much calmer than before. He was still in his full uniform save for his hat, he noted as he quickly looked around, while his partner wore what he always did to sleep - comfortable black briefs and a tank top - and they were in the latter’s dimly lit quarters on his spacious bed, the blankets bunched up and on the floor next to it.

A soft groan was the slightly delayed response. A moment later, General Maximilian Veers groggily opened his eyes and blinked the sleepiness out of them, taking a deep breath that made his chest swell.

“Mmm… Firmus, why are you up at three in the bloody morning…?”

Piett threw a glance at the chrono on the wall. It _was_ around 0300 Imperial Standard Time. How damn accurate was this groundpounder’s internal clock?

He turned back to Veers and exhaled sharply as the general arched and stretched, entirely unhindered by the weight on his stomach.

“Max, I… I don’t know how to explain it. We were in the middle of the battle, and a Rebel starfighter was about to crash into the bridge, then, somehow… everything froze. Like hitting the pause button on a holovid. But I was still able to move around for a minute or two, and then I blacked out and woke up right here.”

The words came pouring out like water from a spring. Veers’ brow furrowed, and he sat up, leaving the admiral sitting in his lap. His dark eyes roamed the smaller man’s form, taking in the slight trembling of his hands and the dull gleam of dried sweat on his forehead. He looked paler than usual, too.

“I was about to ask how certain you are that it wasn’t just another of your nightmares, but I’m absolutely sure you were _not_ in your uniform when we went to sleep last night” Veers said, now fully awake. “You weren’t wearing anything, in fact.”

Piett rolled his eyes at the comment, but shuffled closer and placed his hands on Veers’ broad shoulders.

“Just hold me, Max… I can’t solve mysteries when I’m shaking in my boots.”

The general obliged gladly and gathered him into his arms, wrapping them protectively around Piett’s slight frame and pressing their bodies together as he dipped his head. They kissed tenderly for a while until the sailor pulled away and let his lips brush across Veers’ neck.

“We should get going now” he said and pressed a kiss to the soft skin.

Veers hummed in agreement and let go of him, allowing him to slide off his lap and the bed and stand up. He followed with a low grunt of discomfort, rubbing a sore spot on his side.

“That’s what I get for pretending I’m still a young little hopper…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dirtpounder. You’re as sprightly as you can be” Piett replied, not missing the opportunity to eye his lover with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

Tall and powerfully built, standing in stark contrast to the truly pint-sized admiral, Veers was famous among the troops for his austere but fair manner of command, steadfast conviction, unshakable determination and unwavering loyalty, not to mention his raw physical power and iron constitution. Thirty-four years of service had left countless scars on fair but tanned, weathered skin that many suns had kissed.

Piett loved him all the more for those many marks of endured hardship that made him worthy of being dubbed ‘Iron Max’ so fondly by his soldiers, and he rather liked how fit and toned the general still was at the ripe age of fifty-two and how sweet he could be to those close to him.

The admiral himself was no pushover either - small, scrawny and pale but more than capable of defending himself; he _had_ to be, as he’d spent his youth surviving in Rimworld slums, then decades hunting pirates, smugglers and all manner of scum and villainy who spared more respect for the dirt under their boots than for the law. The Imperial Navy had become his home after he had singlehandedly scrubbed his homeworld clean of crime, where he’d risen through the ranks quickly enough to end up in command of the galaxy’s most powerful warship within six years.

Veers loved him with all his heart for his quiet efficiency, mastery of spaceborne warfare, soft-spokenness hiding a razor tongue, unfailing reliability and witty humor - something both men shared.

It took the general less than fifteen minutes until he was dressed and ready to leave. Piett could hardly keep his eyes off him the entire time, thoroughly enjoying watching him don the olive uniform that a Coruscanti couturier had finely tailored for him.

“Quit giving me those bedroom eyes, you half-pint console-humper” Veers growled sternly as he fastened his belt, but gave Piett a wide, toothy grin.

“Oi, you old fart, it’s mighty late for you to start learning how to swear like a sailor!” the admiral laughed, his usually suppressed Rimworld accent shining through, and stepped closer to stand on tiptoes and press a kiss to Veers’ lips, humming softly as a strong arm snaked around his waist.

Knowing at the back of his mind that he still had to find out what had happened on the bridge, he cherished the moment of bliss while he still could.


	2. Into That Good Night

Captain Thorba Neradi was, for once, glad that she hadn’t had any caf before beginning her shift, otherwise she might just entirely turn into a shaking mess. She mustered all her confidence to keep holding Commander Gherant’s infuriatingly smug gaze as she stared him down, standing her ground.

“Just leave it to those who _know_ what they’re doing, Captain. You’re getting in the way.”

Neradi clenched her teeth. Who gave him the right to walk up to her and just about demand her to pass on command to him? She certainly didn’t.

“ _Commander_ ” she responded in a low, warning tone, “while this situation indeed calls for us to choose a leader to follow, your selfishness and entitlement have no place here. Stand down or be forcibly removed. That is an _order_.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted two familiar uniformed figures entering the bridge - her superior, marching in at a brisk pace with General Veers in tow. Oblivious to the senior officers approaching him and the captain, Gherant pulled a self-satisfied grin.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know. The moment you finally make a mistake that throws you off your high horse” he sneered.

Mercifully, Piett’s intervention kept Neradi from calling for the guards to arrest the commander.

“Perhaps I should have been more careful in selecting a TIC” the admiral said coolly, his tone quiet but sharp. “This is your first and last warning, Commander. If you covet the captaincy so badly, you’re going to have to be one bloody lot more subtle about it.”

Gherant paled, his confidence blown away like leaves in a gale, and took a step backwards. He bumped right into Veers, who had come to stand behind him, and squeaked some flimsy apology before fleeing outright. Veers threw a glance after him and shook his head.

“How _dare_ he?!” Neradi exploded, uncaring of the entire bridge crew being able to hear her and her own breach of protocol. “He - he _demanded_ me to hand over command, just like that! The audacity-!”

She exhaled sharply and lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut, and then looked at Piett.

“I apologize, sir” she said somewhat meekly. “I shouldn’t be this upset about just an entitled little snob.”

“There is no need to apologize, Captain. You have _every_ right to be upset. I will make sure to keep a close eye on Commander Gherant from now on” the admiral assured her, stepping a little closer. “But what matters most now is to find out what exactly has happened in the past few hours. Can you give me a brief report on that, Captain?”

Visibly relieved, Neradi nodded and straightened, tugging at the hem of her tunic. The bluish-green fabric smoothly hugged her lean body. She was half a head taller than the mousy admiral and had to look down at him, which she still hadn't gotten used to after six months. With her umber brown skin tone, curly, close-cropped black hair and slender, fit build, Neradi and her superior could hardly look more different, but they understood each other on a level that made them a perfect team.

“From what I’ve gathered out of the bridge crew’s reports and what I myself experienced, some kind of… _temporal anomaly_ occurred in the middle of the crossfire when a Rebel starfighter was on a collision course with the bridge. The more or less general consensus is to describe it as waking up from a nap and having lost track of time" the captain said. "Coincidentally, the chronos and navcomputers are operating inconsistently across the ship, even the core systems, so we essentially do not know what time it is, where we are or how we got here.”

She gestured to the viewports and Piett walked slowly towards them to take a moment and scrutinize the darkness outside, trying to make out any constellations he might recognize. He suspected that the _Executor_ had made several hyperspace jumps, as he could only see the silky blackness of deep interstellar space dotted with less stars than were visible from even the Maw, which was famed for being a dark island in the starry ocean of the galaxy. Being a cluster of black holes, the Maw itself was invisible as well, marked only by the nebulae that surrounded it.

“Are you certain that there is no way to pinpoint our location?” Piett asked Neradi, whirling around.

“Negative, sir” the captain replied, though she sounded a little uncertain. “Out of all the sensor stations I had a tech team check, ninety percent reported anomalous readings and inconclusive analyses. It’s like something on the outside is throwing them off. I’m guessing we might somehow have landed near a nebula or some other kind of electromagnetic disturbance that’s sending the systems into a fritz.”

Piett took a deep breath and threw another glance out of the viewports. Nearby, Veers took a few slow steps towards him, but the admiral was too caught up to care.

“What are those other ten percent picking up?” he asked Neradi.

The captain only pointed at a communications console - the console Piett had seen her hunched over during his dream-like lapse, or whatever to call it. He followed her as she walked towards it, and barely noticed Veers trailing along and taking up a position close to him. Neradi ordered the operator to pull up the latest reports from the sensors.

“This data is fairly consistent, but none of it makes any sense to me, sir” she said helplessly, gesturing at images, graphs and tables as Piett’s eyes flicked to and fro on the screen. “The sensors are keeping their figurative eyes peeled on sixteen overlapping spectrums and four hundred and twelve frequencies, and every single readout seems to be contradicted by the next. Almost like this place refuses to obey the laws of physics.”

Piett bit his lip as a possible explanation crossed his mind. It was plausible, but if it was _true_ …

“What about the gravitational readings?” he asked, his mouth going dry. “Is there anything that _isn’t_ a jumbled mess of random numbers there?”

“Oh… oh, stars, I completely forgot about those in the confusion!”

Neradi tugged at and fidgeted with her collar by reflex, even though Lord Vader had been gone for hours, and gave Piett an apologetic look.

“I doubt they will help, sir, but I suppose we should check them anyway. I apologize for-”

“Please, Captain” the admiral said in a valiant attempt at a soothing tone, “there is nothing to apologize for. You are holding up very well in this extraordinary situation, and I commend you for your success in keeping a cool head even when you struggle to.”

Neradi heaved a sigh.

“Thank you, sir… I appreciate the support.”

Piett nodded at her, then gestured back down at the screen.

“Now let us look at the gravimeter readouts, please.”

When the crewman fetched the reports from said sensors, the admiral’s suspicion only grew, and so did his worry. Taking note of Piett’s unusual stillness, Veers shifted and raised a hand to place it on the slighter man’s shoulder.

“Firmus, what’s wrong?” he asked quietly, squinting at the readouts that were all but incomprehensible to him - groundpounder officers were not usually taught how to read data from sensors mounted almost exclusively on starships.

Piett trembled even with the warm, comforting hand on his shoulder, shaking his head minutely as he stared at the numbers as if trying to deny the dawning realization.

“The Maw” he said tonelessly. “We’re in the middle of the Maw.”

* * *

The admiral had sighted the reports again and again, almost desperately looking for any kind of hint that his logical conclusion was a fallacy, but the longer he sat poring over compiled data, the more clearly the puzzle pieces were falling into place. It only made sense that the readings of nearly all spectrum-based sensors were an absolute mess with no correlation or coherence whatsoever - the many black holes that formed the Maw Cluster were warping space and time with their immense gravitational pull, redirecting the very light of the stars.

A heavy lump had settled in Piett’s stomach, and its weight only seemed to grow with every page of flimsi he balled up and threw over his shoulder. The last one had been a visualization of yet another environmental scan conducted on the infrared spectrum - it had looked like an eye-straining work of abstract art. Piett slumped in his seat and buried his face in his hands.

“I can’t figure this poodoo out, Max” he said tiredly, massaging his aching temples. “Pirates, rebels and criminal scum I can deal with, but _this_?”

He sighed as Veers, who was sitting right next to him with his arms around the sailor’s shoulders, gently stroked his back.

“There’s nothing I can do. We’re trapped here. End of the line for the _Lady Ex_.”

The general shifted closer and squeezed him. At least a little relieved, Piett enjoyed having a taste of his partner’s tremendous strength. It helped him feel grounded when he was about to slip into a state of complete denial.

“Don’t say that, Skipper” Veers chided him softly. “There’s _always_ something you can do. Remember this year’s Interfleet Games? Think of this like that. You solved a problem everyone said was impossible-”

“Are you _kidding_?! The whole ship is at stake!” Piett snapped, sitting up ramrod-straight.

He scowled at Veers for a moment before sinking back into the welcoming embrace with another sigh.

“I’m sorry, Max… I didn't mean to lash out. I just don’t know what to do.”

“And I’m sorry for not being able to help” the general muttered. “I’m not educated on advanced astrophysics. The least I could do is send out a roll call for number crunchers.”

“I suppose so…” Piett replied weakly, snuggling into his chest, then he perked up after a moment. “...wait! Number crunchers…” he repeated and sat up, looking Veers in the eyes. “Max, are you saying we should ditch the sensors and calculate our own way out of here, if there is one?”

The groundpounder looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head.

“I’m dead bloody serious, you big brute! We might just be on to something here!”

“Well…” Veers trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m saying we shouldn’t lay down our weapons before the battle’s even begun, you know? Do not go gentle into that good night. We should fight tooth and nail for our survival, and even if we don’t succeed, we could at least find out how in Yllnaten’s name we got from the Endor system to the Maw without crashing into a planet or falling into a black hole.”

He chuckled to himself, pulling a half-grin.

“Maybe we _did_ fall into a black hole and are at the center of the singularity, where the laws of physics don’t apply…”

“No, I’m absolutely certain we’re _close to_ at least one of those” Piett replied, shaking his head. “The gravimeters are the only sensors that are still functioning reliably. According to the visualizations, we’re in some kind of safe zone where the gravitational pull more or less cancels out, but it still might cause some problems such as kinetic strain on the hull, as we’re not exactly in the center of it. The captain’s working her arse off to find out more as we speak.”

Veers nodded mutely. He pulled the admiral close again, and Piett caught his lips with his eyes closed.

The precious little moment of peace was rather rudely disrupted by a chime at the door. Perhaps the conference room adjacent to the bridge had not been the best choice to work in.

“Excuse me, sirs” Captain Neradi said quietly as she entered after the door slid open, “I hate to disturb you, but I have new reports from the tech crews. I believe they’ve discovered something.”

“Can it wait for an hour?” Piett muttered. “I need some rest.”

The captain threw a glance at the datapad she was holding.

“I’d advise against it since the environment isn’t entirely stable, but I can continue handling the situation with Rear Admiral Chiraneau’s support.”

“You have my full confidence, Captain” her superior said with a tired but genuine smile. “Keep up the good work.”

Neradi beamed, and Veers offered her an encouraging smile of his own.

“Thank you, sir! I won’t disappoint you.”

She saluted, then left the room. When the door had closed again, Piett smirked up at his lover.

“Usually I’d ask whether to go to my place or yours, but your bunk is comfier than mine. Pick me up, will you?”

The general didn’t need to be told twice.


	3. Easier Said Than Done

The discovery Captain Neradi had mentioned turned out to be a gift that kept on giving, in a certain sense.

In the hour that her superior and the general spent resting - though she could very well imagine that they were doing anything but resting - Neradi had, with the help of the rear admiral and the general’s second-in-command, thrown together a team of astrogation experts, navigators, signal specialists, cryptographers, xeno-engineers and otherwise mathematically and technologically inclined crew members, and summoned them to the conference room at the bridge.

Taking a deep breath, the captain looked over the seemingly random assembly of vac-heads, dirtpounders and coffin jockeys, and briefly doubted whether she could indeed handle this or was in way over her head. There was a majority of enlisted and non-coms in the room, as expected; they were mostly Navy, but a handful of them were from the ground forces and the Starfighter Corps. Having a few ace pilots’ opinions could not hurt, the captain had reasoned.

While she thought about how to begin, Neradi could not help stealing a few marveling glances at Colonel Denna Sarethi, General Veers’ ADC, head of the general’s staff and his most trusted subordinate. She had heard of ‘Lady Blast’ and the scuttlebutt describing the well-versed tank warfare expert as ‘a kriffing detonator’, but had never seen her in person until this very day, and by the looks of it, the gossip had been exactly on point.

A little taller than the average stormtrooper, Sarethi was broad-shouldered and stockily built. She radiated confidence and sharply honed strength; her tawny bronze skin and shoulder-length, flowing black hair lent her a regal air. The cut of her olive tunic flattered her powerful body in quite a similar fashion to the general’s. Neradi was not into men; on the colonel, though, the mere sight made the blood rush to her cheeks.

 _Damn it_ , the captain thought to herself, glad that the poorly-timed blush was hardly visible on her dark skin. _A crush is the last thing I need to deal with right now!_

Neradi felt as if a deity had graced her with their blessing when there was a chime at the door, which slid open a moment later and Admiral Piett entered with his head held high, tailed yet again by General Veers. The captain had quickly gotten used to the sight of the tall groundpounder being around her superior much more often than he’d done with Piett’s predecessor. She found him an amiable and gentlemanly fellow, if a little intimidating courtesy of his sheer height and strength; it was an open secret that his and the admiral’s relationship was a much closer one than mere camaraderie, though, and that took away at least some of the frightfulness.

Piett eyed the crowd of specialists as he approached Neradi directly, then nodded approvingly at her, earning a grateful smile.

“I see you’ve gathered some extra firepower, so to speak” he said. “Excellent work, Captain. I will take over. Please have a seat.”

The admiral gestured to one of the few leftover free chairs at the conference table, which happened to be right next to Sarethi’s. Neradi’s smile grew strained and she covered her face with one hand as Piett turned his back to her. Stars, she was going to make a fool of herself.

Piett picked up one of the datapads and gave the report currently open on its display a brief once-over. Veers came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this” the admiral muttered.

He placed the datapad back on the table, arranging it and the five others to form a makeshift tactical display. Behind him, the groundpounder sighed quietly to himself before taking a seat beside Neradi, who had sat down next to Sarethi. While Piett quickly studied the rest of the reports, Veers offered the two women a fond smile.

“If I may say so, Captain” he said to Neradi, “I’m quite impressed with the competent manner in which you’re handling this extraordinary situation. Perhaps when this is all over and we get back home, I may recommend you to the admiral for taking Chiraneau’s place.”

Surprised by his sudden appearance at her side while she hadn’t been paying attention, the captain shrank back minutely, but sighed as she forced herself to be calm and look up at Veers free of apprehension. He towered over her even while seated, and even though she knew he was a gentle giant around those he was fond of, she couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that the better he treated his friends, the worse ways he had of destroying his enemies. Not to mention that the one time some fool had crossed a line, it had taken _four_ burly troopers to hold him back and keep the situation from resulting in more broken bones than just a jaw.

“You flatter me, General, sir” she replied, shyly mirroring Veers’ smile. “Before we can talk about promotions, though, we have to find a way out of this pinch we’ve ended up in. Besides, I don’t believe it’s a dirtpounder’s job to stick their nose in Navy affairs.”

“Oh - no, no, it wasn’t meant as mere flattery!” Veers quickly followed up apologetically. “I’m genuinely impressed. The admiral set quite a high standard with his captaincy. Perhaps I’m only saying this because most commanders of ships I’ve been assigned to have been dimwitted snobs, spineless cowards or selfish sons of Hutts… perhaps I might indeed not be qualified to judge a sailor, but I truly believe you’re already outshining him, Captain. I _do_ recognize Joint Chiefs material when I see some.”

Neradi listened to him with a dumbfounded expression. Better than _Firmus Piett_ , the most steadfastly reliable little busybody in the galaxy who lived up to his given name in every way possible? Rarely had anyone ever given her such sky-high praise.

A gloved hand gave her a vigorous pat on the shoulder. The captain realized belatedly that it had been to her right side, not the left where Veers was seated. She slowly turned around and found Lady Blast herself squeezing her shoulder with a strong hand and grinning widely. Stars, that mirthful expression was so beautiful on her.

“I like you already, sailor!” the colonel proclaimed and leaned in. “Say, could I invite you for a drink tonight at the bridge lounge? Got to keep ourselves sane somehow.”

Neradi felt as if she had just died and gone to heaven, but she managed to smile in response.

“That would be lovely, ma’am. I’d be honored.”

Sarethi amicably slapped her shoulder again before lowering her hand. They all turned around as the admiral cleared his throat rather audibly, and the chatter in the room fell silent at once.

“Ladies and gentlemen” Piett began, “we are here to assess the current situation with all its aspects, and decide on a course of action. The captain here-” - he gestured to Neradi - “-has already done outstanding work in analyzing the reports.”

He shifted his stance, picking up one of the datapads.

“An as of yet unidentifiable object has been discovered approximately in the middle of this ‘gravitational island’. Scans have shown that it is metallic in nature, vaguely cylindrical in shape, possibly hollow, and of similar size to our ship. There is hardly any other information available, since the object appears to be emitting some kind of radiation that is interfering with our sensors.”

Piett paused for a moment to let that sink in, and Neradi took the opportunity to gauge the assembled specialists’ reactions. Many eyes lit up with wonder at what sounded like mystery and adventure to them; the others were wary, cautious of what else might be to this discovery that had raised far more questions than it had answered.

“I propose that we enter a stable orbit around the object while gathering more information, and possibly send out probe droids to take a closer look at it. However, we should exercise the utmost caution - the object’s purpose, origin and design are complete unknowns. We must _not_ be reckless if we are to survive and get out of this situation eventually” the admiral said, and heads nodded their agreement. “Caution is our best friend.”

* * *

 

 

The meeting dragged on. After hours of arguments - it was eventually resolved and compromises were made, but there was bickering nonetheless - Piett dismissed the specialists and sank down on a chair with a weary sigh once they began filing out of the conference room.

 _I need a bloody drink_ , he thought to himself, shutting off his datapads, and then leaned on the table on his elbows and rubbed his temples to ward off the pounding headache he felt coming.

The seat next to his own was empty; Veers had left it to go chat with an officer in Navy blue-grey who had stayed behind. Neradi and Sarethi were conversing avidly a little further away. The captain was flustered, which seemed to endear the colonel greatly.

Piett was about to close his eyes and rest for a moment when he heard someone come along with Veers as the general returned to him and the others.

“Captain, if I may introduce you to someone,” Veers addressed Neradi, “this is Lieutenant Zevulon Veers, my son. He may be useful to you, if you would have him.”

The admiral watched the captain shake hands with a young man who bore a striking resemblance to the general. Zevulon had his father’s height but not his build; tall, fair and slender with reddish blonde hair and emerald eyes, the lieutenant would have looked inconspicuous if he did not tower half a head above most of his comrades.

Piett had often listened to Veers talk about his son with a great fondness, but had never met the boy personally. He had pictured him as a rebellious spitting image of his father who stubbornly refused to follow in his footsteps despite having joined the military as well, but the lad now engaged in conversation with the captain looked much more like a paper pusher to him, and seemed rather comfortable with the protective hand resting on his shoulder. Granted, a paper pusher with _potential_. If ‘Iron Max’s little boy’ was even half as gifted as Veers Senior was, then he would certainly make a fine fleet admiral someday.

Sighing, Piett did not bother listening to the others and simply closed his eyes. Good stars, he needed more sleep. The insomnia he had been able to suppress for years had come back full-force the past few months, and especially for the last two weeks he had been feeling like it was slowly killing him. Sleeping with Veers helped, but sometimes not even the big dirtpounder’s warm, soothing presence and muttered affirmations of love could help him rest.

It was only a matter of time until he would only be able to function in an agonized, delirious state, and then not long before he would be too exhausted to do his duty at all. Now if he could only banish the ghost that kept him awake at night for good, reclaim his peace-

_I need to stop thinking about it._

Lord Vader’s shadow would always be following him, he knew - even when the Dark Lord was lightyears away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead!


End file.
